


Saved From Fire

by tresa_cho



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Childhood, Fire, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their paths crossed early in Jim's life. He just can't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saved From Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Response to the st_kink_meme. Prompt found here: http://st-xi-kink-meme.livejournal.com/330.html?thread=538442#t538442

Jim couldn't breathe.

He also couldn't feel either of his legs, but the more pressing issue was his throat closing violently around hot air he tried to suck into his system. He spared the briefest moment to let a weak cry slip through his lips before he tried pushing himself up onto his elbows again. To the same result.

Blinding, horrifying pain flattened him to the ground once more. He could taste blood in the back of his throat now, and knew he didn't have long. Fire victims died in less than ten minutes of being trapped. Not from burning, but the clawing, horrifying suffocation as his airways expanded to try and deflect the heat invading them.

“Sam-” Jim choked, gagging on thick smoke stinging his eyes and face.

Something cracked and collapsed, the sound reaching him over the roar of the fire. Jim couldn't see anything anymore, his world a violent flare of red and orange and black. His arms were gripped suddenly, fiercely, and he was turned to his side.

A shadow had grabbed him- It could only be a shadow. No human could survive this. They'd be dead. Just like he was dying. This must be Death. Coming for him like She came for his father.

Death was kicking at the wood pinning Jim's legs, which was weird. Surely Death could just make the pain stop. And then his legs were free, and he was in Death's arms. The Reaper had cool arms. Not cool as in hip, but cool as in temperature. Jim let his head roll against the Reaper's chest, limp and completely unable to move.

Death carried him out of the heat and into blessed coolness of the afterlife.

...*...

Jim was very surprised when he woke up.

He was staring at a white, unimpressive ceiling and someone was breathing to his right. He shifted, turning his head with effort, and saw Sam sleeping in a chair beside his bed. He reached for his brother, and Sam started awake with a snort. He was up and over the bed rail, gripping Jim tight.

“Oh Jim. Jimmy. _God_. You weren't breathing when they got you out and you've been asleep for so long-”

“ 'm not dead,” Jim said, wonderingly. He couldn't even really feel his brother hugging him, which had to be the meds. Which meant they had him on the good stuff.

“No. This guy- After you pushed me out the fucking window this guy just ran into the house.” Sam pulled back, framing Jim's face with both his hands. “He saved you, Jimmy. He slipped past the firemen and didn't even hesitate. I tried to get to you. I _tried_ but they held me down- You have to believe me-”

“Yeah. Yeah. The Reaper carried me out,” Jim said, unable to get his mind off that one point. It was such an odd sensation. Being awake but being unable to focus. Like the room was tilting in front of his eyes.

“No, he wasn't the reaper. Christ, Jimmy. He was just a guy-”

Jim didn't hear anything else, as he was already asleep.

...*...

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember features. The figure carrying him out was always covered in shadow. Jim eventually was able to remember that he wore a kerchief over his nose, and that was the only thing that finally convinced him his Reaper was actually human, and not the result of a heat-induced hallucination. No matter how many times Sam insisted, Jim never really believed him. It had been too surreal. Sam would never understand.

And then he was conned onto the boarding shuttle for Starfleet, and this... bum plopped beside him with a scowl and a flask.

And Jim couldn't stop staring at him. Bum stared right back, daring him to say something.

“I think these things are pretty safe,” Jim said, cocking his head.

“Don't pander to me, kid,” Bum said, waving his flask about. He went off on a rant, and Jim couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen this guy before. He stuffed the sensation down. Maybe the guy had been on the receiving end of his fist at some point. Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn't remember.

Bum- also known as Leonard McCoy- had a room down the hall from his, and turned out they had similar classes despite being on different tracks. Jim ended up more often than not on the floor of McCoy's room. It really shouldn't have been a surprise when he ended up, one night, in McCoy's bed.

Jim crawled over McCoy's body, pressing him hard against the mattress as he sucked and bit McCoy's lips. McCoy arched under him, and Jim tugged McCoy's shirt free of his pants.

“You better have lubricant,” McCoy said, his voice a rough growl. Jim laughed, sliding his hands along scar-roughened flesh.

Wait.

Jim paused, straightening. He straddled McCoy's hips and pushed the shirt up to McCoy's chin.

“Jim, what-”

“What's this?” Jim ran his fingers along a patch of discoloured skin. A scar. “How did you get this?”

“Fire,” McCoy said. Jim sat back, nestled in the warmth of McCoy's legs. “It was a long time ago. I was visiting a University and I was on my way back to the Jump Port. There was a house fire. And a boy outside, screaming bloody murder about his brother.”

Jim stilled, a shiver sliding down his spine. No way...

“I don't even know what I was thinking. I don't think I was thinking. I just went in. And I found a boy pinned under a beam. He was barely breathing, but I had to try.” McCoy closed his eyes. “My shirt caught fire but I couldn't stop to put it out.”

“D-Did you stay? With the boy, after?” Jim could barely get the words out.

“I stayed long enough to make sure his brother got to him. And that he was stabalised. I had to catch a jump shuttle home, otherwise I would have stayed. I don't know what happened to him,” McCoy said. He sighed, shifting under Jim. “I've always wondered. What he grew up to be. It just sticks with you, you know?”

Jim couldn't breathe. Heat crept along his skin and dark clouded the edge of his vision. He barely felt McCoy shaking him.

“Jim! Damn it, Jim, say something.”

“It was you.” Jim gasped. “Bones. My Bones.”

“What are you mumbling about, kid?”

“Death, the Reaper of Bones that carried me out,” Jim said through a hysterical laugh.

“Right. I think you are oversexed and it's gotten to you head. Time for you to sleep like a good little cadet.” McCoy pushed Jim's chest until he fell backwards on the cot. Jim shoved his hand away impatiently.

“Bones, it's me! I'm the kid. Bones, you saved my life.”

“I'm still not following you, kid.”

“The kid outside, screaming- that was my brother Sam. There was some sort of explosion, and the house caught fire so fast,” Jim said, his breaths coming short and harsh. “I was able to get him out a window, but the ceiling fell on me. I couldn't get out and- and Death came for me. I was sure of it. And- oh god, Bones.”

McCoy wrapped his arms around Jim and dragged him close. Wet smeared Jim's cheeks, and he realised with a start that he was crying. And McCoy was soothing him, petting his hair and crooning in that wonderful, whiskey-smooth voice of his.

“So does that mean I'm responsible for you now or somethin?” Bones asked once Jim quieted.

“It means I have no idea how to thank you,” Jim said, shuddering.

“You can thank me by finishing what you started,” Bones said, swinging his gaze pointedly to his crotch. Jim ducked his head and laughed.

He had long disavowed fate, but maybe- just maybe- there was something to all that bullshit.


End file.
